


tell me why

by erintoknow



Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [13]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: F/F, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:48:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: Why did you leave/go/stay?





	tell me why

**Author's Note:**

> Zia loaned generously by [Swan](https://ratkingkisses.tumblr.com) additional thanks to her for looking things over and giving some feedback valuable feedback!!
> 
> title taken from [LoveSpell by Snowblood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=daf5-wWnqWs)

It’s about when you’re forty feet in the air that you’re forced to concede that you _may_ have miscalculated. Troposphere is a newbie corporate hero without a lot of information on her. But nothing had given any indication her fine control over wind was _this_ precise.

Taking her on without backup had been a dumb idea. You never would have planned on this operation if you hadn’t been counting on Nemesis. So much for that. The moment Troposphere had blasted the two of you across a cube farm, she had booked it. Abandoned again. It’s fine. Or should have been fine.

Just–

Don’t think about that. Don’t think about the ground. Don’t think about falling. Angle your legs right, use your booster jets to slow your descent, hell, flair out the cape. Anything that might catch a little more friction. The ground is coming up too fast. This is going to hurt. Try to roll it? God willing.

Here. We. Go.

The air is forced out of your lungs as you hit the pavement, warning lights flashing in the periphery of your vision from the helmet HUD as you try to roll you momentum out and away from flattening you into the earth. A second impact as you hit a wall sends the world vibrating around you, more warning lights demanding attention.

Troposphere ascends from the sky, a curtain of dust kicking up in a halo around her feet, and you realize you’re in a heap upside down. Show off. Try to get up, and the corp-rat swings an arm, battening you back against the wall.

“Adrestia, had enough?”

Oh good, a talker.

“T-troposphere.” You cough out. Your voice sounds different, quieter, and you realize the distorter’s not working. If your head could stop ringing any day now that would be great.

“You know, I expected better from someone with your reputation.” She stalks towards you. Confident. You’re right where she wants you. Beaten, in a heap. Yeah, you know the script. But does she?

“That’s ah– that was your first mistake.”

She stands in front of you, hands on her hips. “Surrender before you make this any worse for yourself.”

Surrender? No. Never. You’re not going back. You’ll die first.

She’s close. Too close. Now’s the chance. You crash your fist against the ground but before you can send out the nanovores a gust of air slams into you again sending your thoughts scattered like loose leafs.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing Adrestia, but it’s not going to work.”

How are you getting out this? _Can_ you get out of this? Your body is screaming complaints, so is the suit. Can’t even move without getting blasted. Is this it? Is it over? Is there a way you can get her to at least kill you? Better that than the alternative. Troposphere stares down at you, no mask for this corporate hero, You can see her smug glee perfectly well.

She raises her hand and you brace yourself for another blast but it doesn’t come. Troposphere doesn’t move. Smile frozen, eyes unblinking. You groan; try to focus, try to get up. What is happening?

She twitches, a statue resuming life.

That’s when a flash of black and electric pink slams into the woman. The two figures go sprawling against the pavement. The surprise attacker recovers first, hooding cape swirling out behind her as she gets to her feet. And you know it’s a her because you’d recognize that getup anywhere.

“Zi- Nemesis?”

“To your feet dear,” Nemesis braces her stance, focused on Troposphere. “We need to finish this up before the pigs arrive.”

You pull yourself up with a hand against the wall as you take stock of the all the little pesky warning lights in your heads-up display. Troposphere shouts something under a blast of wind and you watch Nemesis twist to the side. A moment later a mailbox across the street tips over with an ear-splinting screech.

“What a waste of talent.” Nemesis tsks, as she dances around Troposphere. Circling in closer for another strike.

Can you fight? Battered, bruised. You don’t… you don’t think anything’s broken. Besides parts of the suit anyway. Did its job, thank god. No second heartbreaks tonight, praise be. Zia’s keeping up with Troposphere but it’s taking all her concentration to make sure those gale force winds miss. You can feel it, the gravity of her attention pulling at you.

Gotta help somehow. Still too dazed to do any fancy mental tricks but… Zia– Nemesis could, if she could spare the focus. Just gotta give her an opening. But can you do it? Only one way to find out. Leap before you look.

You push off from the wall and dash towards Troposhere while she has her back to you. Drop into a slide as she turns to try and blast you, the rush of air firing over your head like a bullet as the friction of the asphalt eats away at the paint of your armor. Shift your weight; use the jump-jets to launch you into a rising punch into her solar-plexus. There is, you have to admit, a certain satisfaction in winding the wind-woman.

Whatever curse Troposphere utters is drowned out as another blast of air slams you back into the ground, the back of your head cracks against your helmet.

———

“-you behind–” Back of your head is hurts like hell. “–can’t–––you–––come on–” Something’s shaking you, and it’s not helping. Talking? Voices? No, voice, singular. “This is no time to sleep on the job.” Voice stressed underneath distortion.

Eyes open. Wake up. Stay awake. Survive. Evade. Resist. Escape. There’s lines splitting through your vision, and oh yeah you’re wearing a helmet. Cracked? Stay awake. Fighting with someone? For someone? You groan. That corp hero. Goddamnit. You got blasted point blank. Well maybe Nemesis at least–

“Can you stand? We need to move, _now_.” Nemesis? Yeah, there she is. Scratches on the faceplate of her helmet. Are those new?

Doesn’t matter. You let Nemesis pull you to your feet, feel the world swing wildly around you and have to grab on to her. She puts your arm over her shoulder to brace you up. “Let’s go.” She hisses in scratchy static. “We don’t have time.”

“What–” you start.

“Later.” An order. Not up for debate.

This isn’t the courtyard. How far did Nemesis drag you before you woke up? It’s not often you feel genuinely lost. Not a great feeling. Cling to Nemesis a little tighter as the thrum of a news helicopter echos overhead. Police sirens. No doubt the Rangers are combing the area. She was right, no time. You’re going to have to trust Nemesis. Great.

The two of you shuffle through alleyways, avoiding the street. At one point, Nemesis stops in front of a seemingly random backdoor. “Can you stand now?”

You wince. The back of your head still hurts like hell, and you can already tell your legs are going to be extremely cross with you in the morning, but– “Yeah. Think so?” Hearing your own voice without distortion is a strange feeling. Like you’re not Adrestia anymore. Just some girl that got carried away with playing dress-up.

“Good.” Nemesis slides your arm off her shoulder. You put a hand out to the wall next to you to hold yourself up. “I need both hands free.” Is the only explanation she gives as she crouches down in front of the door, wherein she does… something. You’re not sure what. You get the briefest sense of her telepathic focus but you’re still too out of it to parse it.

It only takes a minute and the door swings open. “Follow closely now, dear. We don’t have time to wander.”

“Wander?” You follow her into the gloom and a puzzle piece clicks together in your head. “Oh. A service entrance.”

“I’m not chancing ladders with you in that condition. Can you even see in that helmet, darling?” Nemesis glances back in your direction, or at least you think she does. Between the cracks the visor and the dim haze…

You reach up and unfasten your helmet. Risky, but getting lost is riskier. “Problem solved.” You offer, clipping it to your utility belt.

“Hrm.” Nemesis turns, leading the way through the building. “Well darling, I’m always happy to see your face.”

“Uh-huh.” Maybe that would have gotten you to once. At this point you’ve come to accept that this is just how Zia operates. “Like you can even see my face in this light.”

“Oh, I can think of a few things I’d like to see in the light.”

“I– what?” Okay, maybe you’re not completely inured to her attempts to throw you yet.

“Come on now, stick close.” Nemesis offers a hand back towards you. “Can’t have you getting lost in the dark now, can we?”

Against your better judgement, you take it.

———

When the elevator chimes, you stumble out the door, trusting your telepathy that there’s no one else on this floor. Just you and her. That’s…

“Relax dear, I own the whole damn building. No more surprises.” Nemesis leads the way, motion-sensitive lights flicking on in or presence. A large workshop, desk, tables with spare armor parts. Nemesis pays you no mind as she steps off to the side and unbuckles her helmet. “Well, what do you think?”

“…not bad.” You concede, trying to smother the pang of jealousy. So much workspace! Windows!

“Of course, I spare no expense.” A smile plays at her mouth as she works to remove the rest of her suit. “I’m sure my handmaiden’s workshop is equally impressive?”

You glance around the workshop, trying to avoid looking at Zia, “Y-yeah. It’s, uh, fine… I guess?” You shake your head, run a hand through your hair. Too many questions running around and you’re not sure you’re brave enough to go looking for the answers.

Why did Zia come back for you?

Why did she drag you out of there?

While Zia busies herself getting out of her armor, you do the same. It’s certainly taken a beating tonight. Better it than you, but… You wince at the all the scraped paint. This is going to take forever to fix. Is dropping your armor while in Zia’s home the best decision? Maybe not, but you’re in no condition to fight any further tonight. You’ve already fallen out of one window tonight, what’s a few, less literal ones, between work partners?

When Zia shakes off the last boot of her suit and sets it aside, standing next to its pair. Just in a skinsuit now, she stretches her arms out and then up over her head.“Alright darling, let’s see how bad the damage is.”

“W-what?”

Zia walks towards you, looking you up and down now that you’re down to your own skinsuit. Out of her armor, she’s shorter than you. Not that it stops her from towering, full triple-x energy. You take a step back from her, can’t stop yourself. She clicks her tongue, focused on your face. “You don’t _look_ like you have a concussion. That’s good.”

Scrunch up your face. “I’m _fine_, Zia. We– we both got out in one piece, that’s all that matters.”

“That _is_ the most important bit, yes.” Zia reaches towards you and when you hold your ground, don’t flinch away, she puts her hand on your arm. “But there’s a whole checklist below that, dear.”

Don’t show weakness, don’t give her an in, throw her challenges back at her. “I didn’t take you to be such a worry wort, Zia.”

“Oh, I always worry about my things.”

Wait.

What?

What is she doing–

The kiss breaks, lips parted. The static hum of the A/C filling the silence. “Why… why did you do that…?” Are you asking her or yourself? Both? You’re not sure. Not sure of anything right now. Oh this is _not_ a smart decision you’re making. Is it the concussion? The adrenaline? The way she’s looking at you right now; pupils wide, swallowing you.

Zia doesn’t let go, doesn’t let you look away. “Isn’t this what you wanted, dear?” She tilts her head, lets the hair fall over her eyes.

Lick your lips, ghost of cherry still. “An-and what do you want?” That’s the eternal question isn’t it. The thing you can’t figure out. Why is she here. Why is she _still here_.

There’s a smile on her face, genuine or another mask? So hard to read – to focus as she draws her fingers down your arm, tracing the lines you both know are there under the skinsuit. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Zia’s bedroom is a lot pinker than you expected it to be. Softer. A flash of the woman under the mask, maybe. You don’t know how to feel about getting to see that. At any rate, you skinsuit’s half off, A/C running, you should feel a lot colder than you do. You’ve got other things to focus on then Zia’s home decoration decisions.

Like Triple-X herself kneeling over you on her bed.

You shift under her, gently grab her arm. Try to swallow the lump in your throat. “What– what are we doing, Zia?”

“Well. I just…” Her fingers splay out over your chest, trace the patterns. “Can’t a girl have a little fun with her handmaiden?”

“I’m not–” You huff, roll your eyes, “Spare me the bullshit, Zia.”

Something in Zia’s expression twitches. A muscle under the eye maybe. A long, too-long stretch of time with only the A/C’s electric buzz to fill the void. “You could have died tonight.”

“So what?” Your response is cold, automatic.

Zia’s expression hardens, lips pressed into a thin line. “So what?” She echoes. “_So what?”_

Zia pulls back, legs straddling your thighs. The hand on your chest lets go and then a sharp pain rings out across the right side of your face. You don’t let go of her arm, don’t move. Try to fit the pieces together.

“You don’t get to just–” Zia bites back something, glares down at you. “–throw your life away over my mistake, you idiot!”

“You’re… mad at me?” Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down any. You’ve _never_ seen Zia break her composure like that.

“Of course I’m mad! Why would you do that!?”

“I… couldn’t just let you fight her alone.”

“Yes you can! Could have! Should have! I did! To you!”

You shake your head. “Why did you come back?”

“That was–” She glances away from you. “The whole point was to fight on the ground, not four stories up!”

“You’re lying again.”

“No!” There’s a pained look on her face. It’s kind of surreal. Like you’ve passed into the Twilight Zone. “…Fine. But I couldn’t– I came back.”

You tighten your grip on her arm. “But _why?”_

_“Why do you?”_

“I…” The words die in your throat. Is she… is she crying? Are you? What is happening right now?

Zia opens her mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Still glaring down at you. Eyes still a little too wet. Something is happening here and it’s scaring the hell out of you. Don’t… don’t think about it. It’s crazy. You’re crazy. This situation is crazy.

You let go of her arm. “I, uh– I think your mascara is starting to run.”

That gets a huff from her. “Frankly dear, that’s your fault.”

“I know.”

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

You let out your breath, empty your lungs. “Any suggestions?”

That brings a ghost of a smile back to her face. “Oh, I… I can think of a few things, sweetheart.” She takes your hands in hers. Softly, uncertain.

“I’m… not surprised.” You wait for her raise your hands up over your head. Is that your thought or hers? _Are_ you picking up her thoughts now? Reading signs in the mirage? You keep waiting for her to do something, and it keeps not happening.

She pulls back, fingers unraveling from yours. “You should… you should get some rest.”

“Zia?”

Huh.

This isn’t going to make your relationship with her any _less_ complicated. That’s for sure.


End file.
